I’m so depressed over my lack of self-governance that I’ve quit trying. I haven’t written in years; my depression just keeps sinking me lower and lower. I managed to go to Meeting yesterday. I forced myself to, because to do otherwise would make me feel even more worthless. I’ve been so lonely, for so long; and all my efforts to combat it, seem to fall miserably. I have more assets than ever before, but my life is less my own than ever before, too. My therapy cat, Jamie, was a really good investment because, she NEEDS me. They were about to put her down because she kept getting returned to shelter. Neil helped me sort out her bathroom issues, and she’s grand, now. Knowing that I’m probably her last chance, let’s us need each other, sharply.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.